The Black Lion
by Jasmine Clearchilde
Summary: Alternate Lily Challenge Response. Lily, in a last ditch effort to save her son sends him and her memories to herself in an alternate universe. This time it happens to be the Cersei Lannister, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. At the age of 5, Harry, named Tyegon, is sent to Casterly Rock to learn from his grandfather, Tywin, how to be a proper Lannister. Harry in M/F pairing.
1. Chapter 1

**Jasmine's Notes**! As some of you might have noticed, Child of Light sucked. It was not very good and I apologize for that. I will admit to having been excited and rushing into the story and challenge with guns blazing. So, after taking some time to think more carefully on it, and after practicing a few different relationships, I came up with this! I hope you guys like it better than the last story. Please leave a review and leave constructive criticism. TTFN!

Oh, if you want to check out the Alternate Lily challenge, its here. /topic/83467/99557695/1/#110451934.

* * *

Lord Tywin of House Lannister tightened his lips as rode his stallion through the mud covered cobblestone streets of Kings Landing. His black and red armor was spotless against the grime that the once proud city had submitted to under the rule of Robert Baratheon, the first of his name. He was glad to have his procession with him as he made his way toward the Red Keep to discuss yet another loan to the seven kingdoms, they might have been idiots to him, but they kept the smallfolk back. Deciding it would be best to ignore the starving and crying peasants, he moved his horse into a trot to make better time.

Tywin was a tall lean man, with sun kissed hair and a deep tan from the long years of his life. His sea green eyes were calm, nearly cold, and always calculating. His mind was a miraculous thing in this day and age, able to filter what seemed to be a thousand thoughts per second, so he barely let his eyes drag over the Red Keep which once served as the home for him and his late wife before brushed the sentimental thought from his mind. Instead he decided to focus on the here and now. Robert wanted a tournament in celebration for his son's birth and the crown didn't have the funds.

He drew his horse short as he entered the courtyard for the Keep and swiftly dismounted, his feet landing in the muck and shit that had built up over the short years of Robert's reign. He didn't blame the king though, the man was too drunk and too busy with his whores to see to the running of the realm, the blame instead fell upon the Hand of the King, Jon Arryn, a sentimental fool in Tywin's belief. A weak Hand just as Tywin's father had been a weak lord.

As the stable boys stepped forward to collect the horses, Tywin's eyes fell upon the servants of the Keep that had come to meet him and his men. He felt his stomach crawl at the lack of respect that his son in law would think so low of him as to not even have the Kingsguard take the time to meet with him. He would speak to Lord Arryn about the dismissal when he saw him, and about the lack of care for the castle grounds and the city. He knew the crown as running on depleted funds, but such matters should have come first before the king dipped his sausage fingers into the purse to pay for his women.

His feet sloshed through the muck as he made his way towards the steps to the Keep and swept passed the servants without a word. If the king would not honor him with a proper welcome, than he would move to other, less pressing matters first. One of the knights of the guard stood just inside the doors and the Lord of Casterly Rock moved to speak to him. "Take me to my daughter's chamber. I would like to speak with her before I discuss matters with the King and his Hand."

"Of course, My Lord," the nameless night said as he bowed to the older man. "I shall lead you personally to her room." The knight turned and began to make his way deeper into the keep with Tywin following his lead. "It may take some time to meet with the king as he is not here at the moment," the kingsguard said casually as he walked. "King Robert thought he had more time before the child's birth and has been into the Kingswood for several days, hunting boar and stag."

The lord merely snorted in derision, careful to keep his tongue from lashing out and possibly being removed for insubordination. When they finally arrived at the door to the queen's chamber, the knight moved to knock but Tywin moved a moment faster. His hand pushed open the door, and he found himself blinking momentarily at the heavy scent of perfume that permeated the air. His daughter, the girl he thought of as the most beautiful in the all of the world, was laying in her bed, obviously still weak, holding two children to her chest.

The larger bundle was obviously his eldest grandson, Prince Joffrey of House Baratheon, barely even a year from his day of birth. The smaller babe was his recently born grandson, a child whose name he had not yet learned. His eyes then looked over his own child, still heavy with the weight caused by the child that had grown inside of her just recently, her hair a matted mess as she fed both her children from her breast.

"Leave us," he said with all the authority of a man of his station. The knight and the few retainers his daughter kept quickly fled from the chamber leaving father and daughter alone with the two children. "I must say, I expected a better welcome than I received," Tywin began not even bothering to greet his child. "I was told the king was off on a hunt, so that leaves Jaime and Jon Arryn whose where abouts remain unknown."

"Hello to you as well, Father," Cersei said as she carefully watched her father, a lioness eyeing a predator for sake of her two cubs. "Robert has taken Jaime to the Kings Wood, and Jon Arryn is probably visiting with MaesterPycelle. I'm sure if either knew of your coming they would have been here to meet you," she answered with a calculating look in her eye that matched Tywin's own, a fact that was not lost on him.

Still standing by the door, Tywin reached for the bolt and latched it shut, locking them inside. "Something has changed about you, my daughter," he said seriously as he moved toward the bed. For the first time, his eyes carefully took in the look of his grandchildren, the two Princes of the Seven Kingdoms. The elder was pure Lannister, a trait the older man knew well, while the other was obviously a strong Baratheon given his hair color, his eyes though were shut tight as he continued to feed. "It is good to see that you have born strong heirs."

"Much has changed," Cersei whispered softly as she shifted her green eyes from her father to her children. She winced as she felt a tooth bite the nub of her breast that where Joffrey fed, and she shifted the baby to more accommodate him, hoping for it to not happen again. "I've finally bore an heir for Casterly Rock," she said aloud as she turned her eyes back to her father. "I have decided to name himTyegon, after his grandfather and his great, great grandfather."

"I'm sure King Robert will be thrilled," Tywin said sarcastically as he looked at the dark haired child, glad he looked nothing like a Lannister and in so possibly Targaryen. "Very well then, the child will come to Casterly Rock the day after his fifth nameday," the lord said with a nod of approval. "Now, how about you tell me what is different about you?"

The young woman's eyes widened for the briefest of moments, but it was enough to cause her father's eyes to narrow. "I, I feel as though I have been bewitched," she admitted silently, not wanting to appear weak in front of her father. "I can see images, memories of a life not my own, of a woman with red hair and her bizarre world of magiks beyond my understanding," she said. "The child, Tyegon, is not mine, but hers. He grew inside my womb just as he grew in hers! It was she who stayed my hand from drinking moon tea and ending his life."

Tywin looked at his daughter for a long hard moment as if sussing out the truth of her words before turning his attention to the newborn. The child and finished his feeding and was now inspecting his grandfather with his bright emerald gaze. "We should thank this witch then," the former Hand of the King said as he continued to inspect the child. "She has given you a strong child and one that will hopefully put the shameful rumors about you and Jaime to rest. Tell me, will this woman who exists in your head be coming to collect the babe?"

"No," Cersei said after a long moment, terrified at the thought her father thought her mad. "She is dead, killed by a wizard that appeared more a demon than man. He killed her to get to the child but her own magic sent the baby to me. Apparently I would have been as she was if the world was different."

"Very well," Tywin said in reply after digesting his daughters words. He unlike most men had a great belief in magic and its wonders, even if he did not hold his life by it. After all, he had served in the throne room when it had been filled with the skulls of the last dragons and had heard the rumors of the magicians of Essos. "The child was born from your loins, and he will marked down as a Baratheon, his hair alone will see it as such. He will come to Casterly Rock and take the place Jaime was stolen from by Aerys and would other wise have fallen to your miserable brother."

A knock at the door brought Tywin up short, he turned and made quick strides to the door before unlatching the lockbolt and throwing it open. A pretty little servant girl, probably from Storm's End stood uneasily before the lord that nearly all of Westeros had come to fear. "My Grace, M'lord, I have been tasked with announcing the arrival of the king."

"And so you have," Tywin said with an air of dismissal. "If you will excuse me," he said turning toward his bedridden daughter, "I have need to speak with our king and his Hand on several issues. One of them being my new grandson." He turned, without waiting for his daughter's dismissal and walked quickly out of the room, intent on seeing the foolish loan completed and the matters of his family taken care of.

* * *

Cersei watched the field with dulled eyed as the men banged against one another for the showing of the people. By all the gods, old and new, did she hate the very of idea of tournaments as they held nothing of interest for those who were above watching violence for the sake of violence. It certainly wasn't doing anything for the babes either, both Joffrey and Tyegon were sound asleep in their prams. The two princes could not be left together for any length of time before they started to wail, and the queen already couldn't wait for her second child's fifth name day.

It wasn't that she didn't love her black haired cub, but the thought of raising any child who looked like Robert Baratheon was nauseating for her. Still though, she could not, and would not let the child be out of her sight for long. Anytime the thought crossed her mind, the image of the red haired woman, who's face was so much like her own, would appear to her and she found herself unable to let him go.

Her eyes ventured toward her royal husband, and she nearly gagged at the sight of him. Wine and drippings from various meats poured down his twisted and curled beard and splattered across his expanding gut. Where there had once been a proud and noble warrior now sat an oafish fool who didn't know when to say he was full and done. Her eyes slid further beyond, to the glorious man in armor the color of shined gold and a white cloak upon his shoulders. His hair the same as her own and with eyes that matched.

How she adored that man, especially when he held her to him and thrust his undefeated cock inside of her. It was only her beloved twin, Jaime, that could make her feel so complete after her disastrous marriage to Robert. He wasn't her only lover, she had probably taken as many men and servants to her bed as Robert took whores, but Jaime was her favorite and held a special place in her heart, a place secured by their son, Joffrey.

Even the other woman, Lily, felt comfortably close with the Kingslayer, the man who had killed the Mad King, Aerys. Something about him reminded her of the man in her dreams and memories, a foolish but carefree man with hair as black as coal, like her sons, and with eyes of hazel. If Lily was meant to be the woman she would have been in that other world, then James and Jaime were one in the same.

A moment after her eyes and swept to her twin his eyes landed on hers and nearly took her breath away. She could feel the rush of want building up inside of her again, the desire to feel his body thrusting against hers, his seed spilling into her womb as they tried to make another life. Jaime was hers, hers alone, in a way she could never be his. The power and control she held over such a powerful and skilled man was a thrill she could not compare to anything else.

After a moment's hesitation she stood, drawing her husband's eyes to her. "I am sorry, Robert but these games do nothing for me, nor our children," she said motioning toward the sleeping babes. "I think I will head inside the Keep and put them down for their nap," she said easily. Her husband nearly grunted and waved her off. "Jaime, do you think you could help me," she asked innocently as she coyly motioned toward Joffrey.

"It would be my pleasure, My Grace," the blond haired man said with a smile and a sweeping bow. He moved around the king's throne and carefully lifted the eldest prince from his pram as Cersei lifted her youngest. With calm steps the two made their way away from the tournament, barely reaching the bottom before the heard a woman's laugh and squeal coming from the direction of the king's throne, sending the two twins into matching eye rolls.

The castle was silent as they moved through its halls, being sure to keep an eye out for any lingering servants who were not out at the field watching the knights. When they reached her chamber, the children were quickly put down to nap in their cribs. As soon as they were sure the children were asleep, Cersei was thrust up against the walls, her lips assaulted by her brother's as he pawed at her breasts like the lion he was. "Jaime... oh gods, Jaime, its been too long," Cersei muttered between kisses as her hands traveled over the length of his shimmering breastplate.

Jaime's hands worked like clockwork, pulling at her skirts so they were lifted above her thighs. Her own, spidery fingers dug at the band of his pants, unfastening buttons as fast as she could before her fingers deftly wrapped around his hardening cock. Before she had a chance to breath and fully relish in the warmth in her hands, it was gone, buried deep between her legs.

* * *

FIVE YEARS LATER

* * *

Tyegon Baratheon watched the people of the court with interest, watching the comings and goings of the smallfolk as they were dealt with by his father and the Lord Hand, Jon Arryn. His green eyes shifted to his father, the King, Robert first of his name. Tyegon loved his father as much as he did his mother, but Robert was no Father or King, he had realized not long before. Jon Arryn ran the kingdom while his father whored and drunk his way through Kingslanding and the surrounding countryside.

He had stood here, near the painful looking Iron Throne just weeks ago as his father smacked the teeth out of his older brother's mouth. Not that the idiot Joffrey hadn't deserved the blow of course. The fool had slaughtered a pregnant cat, the one who kept the mice from over running the kitchen, just to see the unborn kittens. The black haired prince remembered the day well as there had been no food until dinner when the cat's remains and her kittens had been cleaned up and the kitchen overhauled and scrubbed on the orders of his mother.

Tyegon could remember his father's rage and had for the first time been truly frightened of the man they said had broke the Dragon on the Trident. For nearly a full five minutes he was certain he was about to take his brother's place as heir due to the boy's death, but Joffrey had been spared by his mother's pleas. In truth, the black prince thought that his brother deserved a beating for the horrid slaughter of the innocent, but he wouldn't speak against his mother.

His mother was a strange woman, constantly twiddling her fingers as if she was rolling something invisible in her hands. She loved her children dearly and all had the look of her, well, all but Tyegon himself who took after their father. Today though would be his final day in King's Landing. He had been told many times that after his fifth nameday he was going to Casterly Rock, to learn from their grandfather Tywin the ins and outs of lordship and if need be to be the Hand of the King.

In response, his sad eyes landed on his sister Myrcella, just two name days old and still clinging to their mother's skirts. He smiled at her when she noticed him looking and gave him a near toothless smile in return. Tommen, the sweet child was nestled deeply in their mother's arms as she held him to her. Tyegon wondered if he would see the two of them again after he was sent off to the Westerlands.

"Well, that was dull," the king suddenly said as he stood from his throne, revealing that one of the blades had cut into his garments, showing the growing fat beneath. "Shit, I'll need a change of shirt," Robert muttered as he divested himself of the torn cloth and tossed it to a nearby servant. "See to it that that gets patched up," he commanded. "With no more business today, I think I'll retire to my chambers."

The second son of the king would have liked to say he was shocked that the king had forgotten, but with his father's constant drinking and hangovers, it wasn't a surprise. He watched as his father walked, nearly waddled from the throne room and sighed. His gaze flickered to the rest of his family and saw his mother's sad green eyes looking back at him. "Come along, my cub, we must get you ready to travel," she whispered as she stood from her tiny seat near the massive Iron Throne and began to lead her children away.

As he followed his mother, Tyegon thought of the night before as he had packed away his most private and personal belongings, before stashing them away to make sure Joffrey couldn't find them. His older brother had a nasty habit of decrying his ownership of anything and claiming them for his own. Still though, he had one thing that all of King's Landing would gladly give him all its gold to see, the exception being his father would have it smashed.

He had found it his most prized possession deep beneath the keep. He had been playing in his room when he had banged his knee on the fireplace jarring one of the stones out of place. As he did, a tiny section of his wall had slid back and up, just high enough for him to crawl through. Imagining a wonderful adventure, the tiny prince had knelt and crawled through the tunnel of carved stone.

He soon found the tunnel widening into a chamber as wide as his father's throne him, charred black by fire. The room was nearly pitch black lit only by tiny holes in the ceilings that let the musty air out into the sky. Tyegon had thought the room was empty as his eyes adjusted, but then he saw it, half covered by soot and dirt. It was black as the space between the stars with vines of orange crawling across its surface. He knew what it was, it was unmistakable, but if he brought it to his room, Joffrey would try and steal it, so he had left it there buried beneath the Keep. Last night though, he had went back to retrieve it, stuffing it deep beneath his other 'treasures'.

He blinked as the sun intruded upon his thoughts as he stepped outside the doors to the castle. A procession of men, bearing the red and black armor, holding the banner of the golden lion on a field of red were lined up on both horse and foot. An ornate cart was tethered to two strong stallions, their manes braided and their tails groomed. Tyegon rolled his eyes, there was no way that was going to last on the march to his destination.

"My sweet child," his mother said catching his attention. He turned to her to see her eyes damp with tears before she knelt and pulled him into a careful hug. His eyes grew wet as well as he snaked his arms around his mother, sister and brother, careful not to hurt either of his younger siblings. "You will write often," she commanded, as she pulled back slightly, leaving one hand to rest upon his shoulder. "Obey your grandfather, and make sure to learn all you can, except from your uncle Tyrion. I don't want to hear of you following in his mismatched footsteps."

"Of course," Tyegon choked out. He hadn't realized how emotion his leaving would be until right now. He was going to miss his mother, father and his siblings dearly along the road. Who knew when he would see them again. He was quickly pulled into another hug, which he gladly committed himself to, hugging her fiercely as tears began to make their way down his cheeks. He didn't know why his mother hated her youngest brother so much, but he would try to do as she said none the less.

He opened his eyes in time to see the servants loading his precious treasures and gasped. Releasing his mother he moved toward his bag, not bothering to apologize to the young man who had brought it out and began to shift through it quickly, searching for the bottom. He didn't notice his mother's movement until her heard her gasp at the same moment his eyes landed on the oblong treasure inside, still in one piece.

"Listen to me carefully," she whispered as her free hand gripped his shoulder tightly. "Do not let anyone see that until you reach Casterly Rock. Show it only to your grandfather, and ask him for his advice," she said softly as eased her fingers from his shoulder. Tyegon nodded silently as he moved his things back to cover up the black and orange treasure.

"Well, well, finally leaving are you," a voice said, sending chills down Tyegon's spine. He turned as his mother released his shoulder and eyed his older brother warily. "I knew you couldn't handle the life of a prince," Joffrey said arrogantly as he trotted down the stairs to the courtyard and smirked at his younger sibling. "Off to be a lord then? I suppose its only best, not everyone can handle life at the top."

"Good bye Joffrey," the black haired boy said with some disdain, not noticing his mother's sad look at the fact her two oldest didn't get along. "I'll be sure to leave you out of my salutations in my letters," he said as he moved toward the door to his carriage, waiting as one of the armored men opened it for him. He climbed inside and turned, his eyes landing on his mother and his younger siblings. "I'm going to miss you," he whispered softly as tears began to spring forth anew. Quietly he climbed inside and let the door close behind him.

He was leaving Kings Landing, but he was now on a grand adventure first to Kingsroad until Goldroad, and then on to Casterly Rock. He just prayed that nothing untoward happened to his family before he saw them again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Jasmine's Notice!** The love for the last chapter was so great, I decided to push this chapter to really start up the story of Game of Thrones, which will begin next chapter. To that one guy, who sent me a raging pissed off PM about the Lannisters and wanting me to make Harry a Stark... :^P. I will write as I like and with who I like. Harry/Tyegon is a lion, he is always a lion, whether Gryffindor or Lannister, he is a lion and I will keep him as such. Now, on with our tale!

* * *

Tyegon Baratheon's eyes were wide in horror as he watched the smoke billowing up from the sea of Lannisport. He knew war was coming, had heard the older men speaking of readying to combat the Greyjoy's but he hadn't expected it to come here. His grandfather would have called it the naivety of youth if he had actually been at the Rock.

At only seven namedays, he was trying to figure out what he should do against the panic that had risen inside his chest. His green eyes, the lion's eyes, watched the Greyjoy's men below as they began to pour across the port, spreading chaos as they went. The bulk of the Rock's army had moved north with his grandfather, Lord Tywin, leaving only the bare essential men required for protection of the city, and it looked like half the Iron Island fleet was moving in on them.

The boy gulped down air as he tried to figure out the next move, listening to his mismatched armor jangle and clank as he walked. He knew two raven's were already on wing, searching for his father and grandfather, but armies traveled slowly across the land. Swaths of base-born were rushing from the port below, their fists bashing on the gates for sanctuary and their screams and the smoke made it difficult for him to think.

"Open the gate, get them inside," he finally said pointing to the peasantry. "Any man who has seen sixteen name days gets a sword and whatever armor we have left," he added. His green eyes moved to Ser Loring, a great knight once who had let himself grow heavy in wine and food over the years of peace since the king's rebellion. "Ser Loring, lead what men you can through the rock and to the bay," he strategized. "Take archers and tell them to put their arrows to the torch. They burned our ships, so we'll burn theirs."

"It will be done, My Prince," the knight said before he began to bark orders to his men, gathering a seemingly bizarre mix of swords and bowmen and he began to make his way into the castle. Meanwhile, the princes eyes turned back to the once vibrant town that had now become a battlefield. There had to be a way to use it to his advantage against the men who dared rebel against his father.

Finally his eyes found what he had hadn't even known he was looking for. A band of men surrounded a singular knight, moving as he did. Tyegon's eyes narrowed as he saw the tentacle like patterns on the man's helm and pauldrons. "Give me a bow and arrow," he commanded and took them from one of the nearest men.

As he heard the gate close behind the straggling smallfolk, he thought about what was going to happen, and what he wanted to happen. Turning he gazed at who they had, and fought the frown that wanted to spread across his face at the sight of the old and sickly men who had joined his small force. He should have known Lord Tywin would have taken the greater force of all he could to impress upon his father, and the other lords his strength and power.

"Listen men," he called out gathering all their attentions. "They blind sided us, took us by surprise with their fleet and men, it's true! We thought they would stay to the east, but the kraken is far more slippery in the water than any beast on land," he admitted. "But we are not just any beast! We are the Lions of Casterly Rock! We have teeth and claws while they have nothing but tentacles to their names! Now, we'll bite one of those tentacles and drag the Kraken screaming from the ocean!"

The men yelled out their approval, their voices echoing loudly across the mountain of the Rock as it vibrated through the rocks and tunnels beneath the ground. Tyegon's eyes turned back to the port and watched as one of the ships flying the Greyjoy flag began to burn. The screams of the sailors aboard the ship began to draw the attention of the men in the port and Tyegon notched the arrow he had taken just minutes before.

Closing one eye, he took careful aim upon his target, and watched as the hulking son of Balon Greyjoy turned to make his way back to the ports and the ships, which were quickly igniting one after the other. Tyegon let his arrow lead his prey for several steps before he let the bowstring go. The thwack of the string was loud in his ear as he watched the arrow split the wind, diving from the high defensive wall around Casterly Rock and fly into the port.

The arrow lost its power though and sank toward the ground before impaling Maron Greyjoy's calf, sending the son of Balon to his knees. "ATTACK," Tyegon cried out, as moved toward the gate. "If they love their drowned god so much, than let us push them into the waves," he said loudly as the gate opened once more, allowing the men of Casterly Rock to fall upon Lannisport once more.

* * *

Tywin sat on quietly on a rock some distance from Lannisport, his line floating through the water as he watched his grandson do the same. He was one of the only two people to know his black haired grandson's true birth, and in the years since the boy had come to Casterly Rock, he found that he did not mind the strange nature of the child's birth. The boy was strong, with a hard, but good head on his shoulders and had already begun to prove himself as the foundation for the next step in the Lannister legacy.

While Robert and Eddard Stark had continued to move toward Pyke, Tywin had been forced to move his men back to his homelands, fearing he would need to push the Greyjoy's from his home. His surprise was met with a gladness he rarely felt since his Joanna's passing as he saw the lion flying high above his lands. While the boy hadn't put more than half of the enemy's fleet to the torch, he had driven them back, and sent Maron Greyjoy home with a leg that would never again properly function.

He had been proud that the black lion cub had bared his fangs and claws with only the help of overly seasoned knights, old men and boys at his back. When he had asked his grandson what favor he desired for defending his home, the boy had simply asked to spend time with his aging grandfather. Thus, monthly trips to the bay to fish or to the woods to hunt had become a mainstay for the past few years when Tywin could escape his duties as Lord and leave his brother Kevan in command.

He wondered how his children would have turned out if he had had the time to do these things with them while they were young. It was sad to say that Aerys had kept him busy as the Hand and he was not permitted to spend time with the twins, and his own loathing of his imp son had kept them from bonding after he had relinquished his place as Hand. He knew he was a cold man, he doted on no one, and very rarely made the trip to Kings Landing to see his children and other grandchildren, but Tyegon was to be his heir, and required more attention than his siblings.

Tyegon was a growing boy, now ten and four name days old, and was getting appetites that Tywin was hard pressed to keep control of. Many boys his grandson's age had already seen fit to wet their cocks in the cunts of whores, but he had forbidden it. After the travesty that was Tyrion's mindless drinking and whoring, just like the king, he would not let such behavior become so paramount in his own heir. "Ah, it seems as if you have caught something," the old lord said as the young lion's line twitched and jerked in the water.

He watched as the black haired youth pulled in his line and let his mind continue to wander. Tyegon was a bright child, too bright some would say. He wondered if it had anything to do with the world the boy had supposedly come from, as his brain latched onto many things quicker than some men. Not that the boy, like his uncle Jaime didn't prefer the sword and shield, along with the riding of horses to being cooped up in a library for hours on end.

The boy also had a strangeness to him that made frequent letters to his daughter a necessary trade off. Tyegon had once turned the Maester's hair a vibrant blue for making him study longer than he wanted and missing a training exercise. Another time, he had fallen from the wall, only to reappear in his bedroom by some fashion that no one could explain. If he wanted something bad enough, it would come to him rather than him needing to reach for it. Lastly though, he had caught his grandson in the fields, hissing to a serpent who was seemingly paying rapt attention before Tywin's sword and lanced it through the head taking the boy by surprise.

Luckily, whatever magic had brought the boy to the Lannister family had left his mother with memories of another. She would often answer his questions in scribbled notes carried on raven's wings, filling the gaps of paper that weren't gushing about her less exciting children. Tywin knew she didn't yet understand the enormity of the situation and the gift they had been given. The Targaryens had conquered most of the world on the backs of dragons they tamed with magical abilities, and here, in Lannister blood was a boy who wielded magic and spoke the tongue of serpents.

It was a shame the boy was second born, he would have made both Robert's followers and those who still held the Targaryens as the true kings happy. His eyes watched as the youth, nearly a man, pull a great silvery fish from the sea and smack it against the rocks to end its suffering before he added it to the basket with the others. Quietly, he wondered if the boy was the one who, after so long, would hatch the dragon's egg that even now burned in the hearth of the boy's bedroom and bring the might of the Targaryens into Lannister hands.

"Good work," the old man said calmly as the boy prepared to cast his line anew. "Tell me something, Tyegon, have you been practicing your art," he asked, generally interested in the boy's progress with his magic.

In answer the boy's eyes lit up as he settled his rod back into his holder, and turned his attention to his basket of fish. Slowly he raised his hand and caused the basket to lift into the air as if by invisible hands, and hold at roughly chest height before lowering it back to the ground. "I have almost mastered that ability, but the heavier an object, the more strength it takes to lift. I find that like any muscle it must be exercised to gain in strength."

"How very wise of you," the blond lord said with a nod as he turned his attention back to his own line. "Perhaps the magic exhausted itself from the world because the men and women who practiced the art never bothered to strengthen theirs as you have been. The fat and the lazy do so ruin what made them that way, after all, food and wine lose their flavors, and magic grows weaker as its used less often in place of servants."

The young prince grew quiet as he settled back onto his rock and gazed out at the sea in contemplation. It was another thing that Tywin liked about his would be heir, the boy took time to think when it was available, instead of rushing in like Jaime and over complicating matters like Cersei. "I think these will be our last lines for the day," he said at last. "I dare say we caught enough fish to feed the whole family, and we ought to leave a few to breed the population."

"Of course, Lord Grandfather," Tyegon said with a cheeky smile as he looked to the older man, who simply sighed at the nickname.

* * *

Cersei smiled at the her two youngest children as they were jostled by the movement of their carriage up the King's Road, sticking toward the middle of the caravan of soldiers, knights and entertainers that rode with the king. Her long blond hair was pulled into a bun atop her head, to keep the heat from building around her thin neck as her dress hugged her lithe but proportional body. The children were deep into their own fantasy worlds created by the books that were sprawled open in their laps.

The reason for her smile was that they were drawing ever nearer to the Twins where Walder Frey kept watch over the narrow land they called the Neck. While she detested the Freys, the Twins had been named the place where they would meet with the procession from Casterly Rock which rode north with her son, Tyegon. She felt goosebumps rise on her flesh at the thought of seeing her second born after so many years. He was ten and five now and a known commander for her father's forces after he defended the Rock from the Greyjoys.

"Will we be seeing Tyegon soon," the sweet voice of her daughter asked suddenly, drawing the mother from her thoughts. She turned to her daughter, so very much like her with her curly blonde hair and green eyes. If only she had inherited her disposition, but sadly she took after her father in that regard. She also noticed that the question had apparently perked young Tommen's interest as he too looked up from his book.

"We will be seeing your brother soon," she said pleasantly as she leaned forward to kiss her two children on the forehead. "I'm sure he'll be so excited to see the two of you after so long. He's tried to visit before but his duties at Casterly Rock has kept him very busy," she smiled sadly at the reminder of her father always stopping her black haired son from visiting. "Did I ever tell you two, about how your brother led the defense of Casterly Rock during the Greyjoy rebellion?"

"He did," Tommen asked excitedly as he looked at his mother with large green eyes that sparkled with excitement. "I heard Joffrey complaining about it, but I thought he was telling tales," the blonde haired ten and one year old admitted.

"Oh yes," she said smiling, despite at the time she had nearly torn her own hair out in worry when they had received the raven of the attack. "While your father, grandfather and Lord Stark moved toward the Iron Islands, the Greyjoy's attacked Lannisport while it seemed undefended. Your brother set their ships to light and wounded MaronGreyjoy while leading all but a few peasants and old drunkards. He sent what remained of their fleet and MaronGreyjoy running back to the Iron Islands to meet your father and Lord Stark."

"I'd have just killed Maron if I had been there," the pompous voice of the Prince Heir said as he rode along the carriage on his own stallion. "Tyegon was weak to not finish him off before his men were able to set sail again. I'd have head their heads on pikes and waiting for grandfather when he returned," Cersei's eldest child said with such certainty that few would have dared called him on it.

While the queen loved all her children, she was hopeful that the arrogance would drain from her eldest child as it had James Potter in Lily's memories. On the other hand, a good king needed an air of confidence to him, and so long as Joffrey held to the belief that he could never lose at anything, the people would rally to him.

"I can see them," a voice from the front called out. Intrigued, the blonde haired queen wanted to slide open the screen that aired out the carriage and look for herself, but it would have been far to beneath her stature to do so. Thus, she was trapped inside the carriage with her two excited children as the carriage was pulled by its four horses to a stop just behind the king's stallion. With a leap of excitement, she threw open the carriage door and stepped as daintily as she could to the dirt road below.

At first, she didn't see who she had longed to for so many years, before she looked past her husband's gut toward his feet. A boy, no, a knight was kneeled before the king, dressed in armor as black as the midnight sea. His pauldron's were shaped as lion's heads, with stag antlers rising from their manes to protect his neck. Dark grey chainmail was fitted between the black plates, as his long black hair fell over a deep tanned skin, obscuring his face from her hungry gaze. A steel sword was sheathed upon his hip, and a helm the color of obsidian, made up like a lion's roaring muzzle and mane was tucked beneath his arm.

"So, this is what the house of lion's has done to my son," the King said with a snarl as his beady black eyes inspected his second son. The sweat poured down his face in waves from the heat and stress of the ride though he pretended not to feel it. "Well, I'll suppose you'll have to do, lad," Robert said after a long moment before he turned and walked back toward his men. "Set up camp, we'll stop for the day and continue to ride in the morning. Just a few more weeks before we reach Winterfell."

Deciding to ignore her husband for the moment, Cersei rushed to her long estranged child. "Tyegon" she breathed his name as her hands fell up his head and tilted it up to look at her. Her breath halted in her throat as she looked upon the boy she had often wished she kept. How could a child, born from her womb but with no father have so much of Jaime in his look? Gone was the baby who fed at her breast, and clung to her skirts. The boy who cried as he left King's Landing was now a man who had seen death and blood far to young for her liking.

"Mother," he said softly as he stood back to his feet. He seemed shocked as she pulled him into a hug that nearly made him drop his helm. "I've missed you," he whispered tentatively to her as he released his embrace. His green eyes, the color of wildfire, looked at the two children behind her. "By the gods old and new," he whispered. "Those cannot be little Myrcella and Tommen! They're fully grown, not the little children who hid behind your skirts and suckled at your breast."

"Yes we are," Tommen whispered as he stared up at his older brother with something akin to hero worship. Myrcella was as bright as a fresh tomato, and seemed to find the dirt far more interesting than her brother's face at the moment. "Over there is Joffrey," the youngest boy said, pointing toward the scowling prince who still remained upon his horse, not at all happy to see his brother.

"I believe I'll talk to him later," Tyegon said after a moment and looked back to the family that was happy to see him. "Grandfather says I'm to return to King's Landing with you," he said with a smile as he put his hand on his younger brother's head and proceeded to mess it up. "He says I need to learn what it means to live as a prince, in case I should ever rise to the Iron Throne."

"It will be good to have you home," Cersei replied, her eyes misty at the thought of having all her children back together under one roof. "Come, they are setting the tents and starting the fires. I'm sure the festivities will be starting shortly, wine, supper, a song or two before we all retire. You can tell us all about your adventures since you've risen to prominence in Casterly Rock. I'm sure Tommen and Myrcella would love to get to know you."

"I would like nothing better," the black prince said as he began to follow his mother to the king's fire. While Robert and Joffreymight not be happy to see him return, at least his mother and young siblings seemed excited by the news.

"Oh, before I forget," Cersei said with a glint her eye that spoke heavily of mischieviousness. "Joffrey is to be engaged soon, to Sansa Stark, Lord Eddard's eldest daughter," his mother explained, though she didn't sound quite so happy about the thought of Joffrey's marriage. "You though, with your win at Lannisport get the honor of a betrothal to Asha Greyjoy, I've heard she's quite the seafairer."

"Oh, well that's, wait... What?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Jasmine's Notes!** Wow, some of you ranted and raved about the announcement of Tyegon's marriage like I had just slaughtered the Starks early! I would like to thank those of you who understand that no pairing is ever set in Game of Thrones until the series is done and over with and were generally interested in how the plot would pan out and felt it interesting that things would be changing for Westeros and possibly even abroad. Some changes will be small, others far larger with wide, sweeping repercussions. That said, I would like to thank everyone for their reviews, but like George R.R. Martin himself, I'm going to write what I want to, with what plot I want to and Tyegon's final pairing will be with who I want it to be.

* * *

The chestnut colored mare stomped at the earth as it made its way northward amongst the packed caravan on the King's Road. It's dark haired rider was jostled about, his fine breeches hugging the animal's wide side as a pair of cream colored riding gloves gripped the reigns. "So, uncle, what do you make of this arrangement with the Greyjoys?"

"Ah, so you have learned of your upcoming nuptials, dear nephew," the Lannister dwarf said, eyeing his nephew with his mismatched eyes from beneath his black and yellow hair. "It will not lie, it was difficult to find you a match, much more difficult than your brother. Robert's obsession with marrying the houses of Baratheon and Stark is well known. At first, they went to the Martells, but after Lady Elia's demise during your father's rebellion, and who they believe ordered such actions, their answer was quite obvious."

"What about the Tyrells," Tyegon asked with a raise of his dark eyebrows. "I would have assumed a marriage would have been seen as fitting to the people of Highgarden."

"Indeed, so much so they already were in talks with your uncle, Renly, about marrying their only daughter to him," Tyrion said with a glint in his eye. "Of course, Margaery Tyrell's brother, Ser Loras would be moving with them to Storm's End as your uncle's shield sworn." A look passed between nephew and uncle as they both thought of the rumors about Renly Baratheon and Ser Loras Tyrell.

"I see," Tyegon said quietly, biting his lip in thought.

"The Greyjoy's though are an uncivilized people, always warring with the coast when they get the itch," Tyrion continued. "With Theon being warded to the Starks, the job was half done of keeping them in line, and by marrying you to Asha your father hopes to keep them better under thumb once Lord Balon should be heaved into the ocean's waves."

"I suppose it would be profitable," Tyegon said after a moment. "With the help of the crown and the Lannister coffers, mining operations could be made easier on the islands, provided we get our share. Armor and weapons would be made at more profitable price for the land, and we would have access to their ships to better defend the west."

"Now you are thinking like a Lannister," Tyrion said with a smile at the black haired boy. "Money and men, how odd to think of those two things together, I much prefer the thought of money and women," the man known as the imp said with a teasing smile. "But they are seemingly all that father thinks about, how to get more of each."

The prince gave his uncle a quick glance before turning his wildfire gaze back to the road. "He can be a good man, you know. I feel much closer to him than I do my own father."

"I wouldn't know," the dwarf said with a shake of his overly large head. "I have much more in common with your father than my own. How strange."

"My prince," a deep rough voice said from behind the two men causing them both to turn. "Word from the front is we are nearly there. Your mother has requested we halt for the time being, so that the royal family can be groomed and outfitted to meet with the Starks," the hound said with a growl, as if he thought the idea of them needing to spruce themselves up was a joke.

"Thank you, Ser Clegane," Tyegon said clearly as he brought his steed to a slow stop. He turned and watched as his brother's sworn shield brought his own horse around and moved back toward the blonde heir to the crown. "Nice fellow," he muttered sarcastically.

The dwarf snorted as he remained in his saddle watching as his nephew's retainers rushed forward to help him into his armor. "The man's a dog, hence the name, the Hound," he said with a chuckle. "The man's little more than a mercenary, and nearly as good a killer as his brother, Ser Gregor who now sits as the head of the House Clegane."

"Yes, well," the prince began as his shirt of chainmail was pulled over his tunic, "he could stand to better his manners some." He carefully stepped into his matching chain breeches, before the retainers began to fashion on his armor. "Though, I suppose any great length of time with my oh so loving brother would whittle away anyone's patience with the royal family."

"Speaking of the family," Tyrion started with an impish grin across his lopsided face. "I shall be diverting my path from theirs when we reach the village," he said with a chuckle. He laughed openly as he watched his nephew roll his eyes at his obvious behavior. "You should join me nephew, a boy should never reach your age with his cock dry."

"Thank you but no," Tyegon said, his eyes swiftly cutting to where his father was being worked over by is own crew of men and women, trying valiantly to get clothing that was seemingly far to small for his bulk around his body. "I believe I shall wait to scratch that particular itch with my bride. I hear the suspense is always better than your first time anyway."

"Very true, Tyegon, but it's best to get that first one out of the way," the imp admitted. "After all, you don't want to fall into your wife's arms like a fresh trout do you?"

"I'm to marry a Greyjoy, uncle," Tyegon said with a grin. "I'm sure she'll be used to fresh trout."

"Do as you wish, but as for me, I plan to drink and fuck my way through every whore in the north before we ride south again," Tyrion said with a leacherous grin. "I've nearly fucked my way through each of the seven kingdoms. Perhaps when we return, I'll head to Dorne and taste of their fruits."

The raven haired prince shook his head. "You do that uncle, but I'm not covering for you," he warned. "Should I be asked, I'll tell them exactly where to find you," he said as he accepted his helm from his final retainer, fully suited in his armor.

"If they know me, they won't need to ask."

* * *

Lord Eddard Stark, Head of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North felt his stomach roll with nerves as heard the clomping of hooves as the procession from King's Landing moved through his gates. First through were men carrying the banners of House Lannister, the golden lion on a field of red, who were swiftly followed by a legion of the Kingsguard in their gold plated breast plates and white cloaks.

Behind them came the boy who could only be Robert's oldest, Prince Joffrey, wearing clothes of fitted red leather, so clean they could have only just been put on, and across his shoulders was cloak of heavy black fur with not a trace of dirt within its hair. As protection, he rode just ahead of a man in black armor with the helm made to look like a snarling dog. Sandor Clegane, the Hound and the prince's sworn shield, and if the rumors were true, a man nearly as brutal as his elder brother.

Behind the Hound came another figure in black armor, though his was thinner and seemed to be made for speed rather than protection. The roaring lion helm, complete with the antlers of a young stag helped identify him as Robert's second son, Tyegon, the only one of the king's children to have his hair they said. Behind the two elder princes came another congregation of the kingsguard serving as a buffer should they be attacked from the rear.

Next came a carriage of dark wood, imported from the across the Narrow Sea and drawn by four mares, their manes and tails braided in absurdity. Ned, as he was called by his friends and wife, could only imagine it held the queen and her two youngest children, plus whatever servants were needed to make her life more comfortable on the long trip.

Finally, surrounded be a legion of men, came the king, a look of contempt upon his face as he rode atop a shortener steed with thicker than average legs. His hair was as wild as it had been in their youth, and his beard a tangled mess of a thing. The king's gut hung heavy over his belt and pushed on the buttons and stitching that kept it contained. Nearly as one, Ned, his family, their servants and the men who swore him allegiance went own on bended knee as a couple of stable boy's rushed forward with a set of steps for the king to descend from.

With a heave he brought his leg over his horse and began to his descent, his footsteps purposeful as he marched across the mud strewn ground. He didn't stop until he stood barely two feet from the Ned's head, and with his fingers motioned for the Lord of Winterfell to stand. Silently Lord Eddard moved to his feet, his face clearly showing his worry that something was wrong, other than the raven they had received declaring Jon Arryn's death.

King Robert, The First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, King of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm eyed his long time friend and ally and harrumphed. "You've gotten fat."

Ned lifted an eyebrow as he glanced down to the King's great girth and back up. Within moments the king's serious face turned to a beaming smile as he laughed. "Gods Ned, it's good to see you," he said as before the two men embraced one another like brothers. "And Catelyn," he said as moved to embrace her as well. Soon enough the King was moving down the line, meeting with children of Winterfell one by one.

The King's movement allowed the Queen to step forward to meet with them. "You're grace," Ned said hesitantly before he bent to kiss her hand in greeting. "I hope the journey was not to long for you."

"Ned," The king's voice called out, catching his attention. "I wish to see the crypt. It's time I paid my respects."

"My love, we've been traveling for a month, surely the dead can wait," Cersei answered her husband in Ned's place. The King's response was only to glance at his wife for a brief moment before he turned and swept away, leaving his long time friend to hurry after him.

* * *

The platinum blonde hair of Daenarys Targaryen spilled down her back in elegant waves as she looked out over the city of Pentos an its outlaying mountains of rock with no trees or grass to set it apart from the barren land that surrounded them. Her rich purple eyes were shadowed in doubt and worry as she thought of her only sibling, Viserys, the Beggar King. She felt no want to think of him as 'the Dragon' as he demanded to be called in his fits of rage which often left her ivory skin dotted with hues of yellow and purple.

She knew his plans, knew that he was going to have her married off to some heathen beast of the plains that called himself a Khal of the Darthraki people. She had heard rumors and stories of the horse loving barbarians and their savagery. She didn't want to married to a monster that like, but rather to go just go back to the Seven Kingdoms. Her brother, and their host, Illyrio Mopatis, were always going on about how the people hated her families butcher and gave secret toasts to them, waiting for them to return so they could become an army once more and take back what was theirs.

"Daenerys," the call of her brother rang out, and she turned her head slightly toward the noise that had interrupted her thoughts. "Daenerys," he called again, this time with a hint of steel in his voice as he grew nearer to the bathing room where she waited for her bath to cool. Calmly, with all the pomp of a servant, she made her way down from the balcony to see him rushing in, a dress held in his arms. "Ah, there you are! Look, Illyrio has bought you a gift!"

Viserys was much like her in looks, if taller than her by a head. Though, his eyes were darker in hue than her own, she often feared looking into them. Inside his eyes she felt she saw the madness of the Targaryen men, the same madness that had led a rebellion against their throne. "Go on, feel the fabric," he said innocently like a child holding a new toy.

Her hand slowly lifted so her fingers could drag along the material that would be hers to wear as she stood before the Khal like a slave on the block. "Mmm, isn't he a gracious host," the beggar king asked as he eyed the material appreciatively.

The dethroned princess liked their latest host, he had given them food and shelter, clothes to wear that weren't rags and books to read and learn from. He was the most generous host they had ever found in all the time that she could remember. "He has kept us for over a year and has never asked for anything," she said allowed, looking at her brother.

"Illyrio's no fool," the would be king said with a smirk. "He knows I won't forget my friends when I take back my throne." His eyes raked over her body for a moment before he bundled up the dress and held it away from his body so one of the servant girls could rush forward and take it. "You still slouch," he said annoyed, before he reached behind her neck and began to undo the strings that held her dress up. "You have a woman's body now," he added as she slid her dress from her shoulders and down to her waist, exposing her ample breasts to the light.

Daenarys went quiet as his hands began to run along her body, her eyes moving to the far wall of the bath as she thought of anything else other than fighting back against his unwanted handling. "I need you to be perfect today," he was saying as his thumb caressed her breast. "Can you do that for me," he questioned, causing her eyes to shift back up to his. No words could escape her throat as she fought back the nausea of his touch. "You don't want to wake the dragon, do you?"

"No," she whispered like a trained dog showing its obedience. Finally he released her and began to make his way out of the bath, his ego seemingly stroked.

"When they write of my reign, dear sister," he said, pausing at the door to the bath. "They will say it began today." With one last look at his sister's youthful body, he turned and made his way out of the room, leaving Daenerys alone. Her purple eyes shifted to the water of her bath, and how it boiled and streamed in its heat. With deliberate steps climbed into the blistering water to wash away her brother's touch, and felt nothing from but the water lapping at her soft flesh as if her body did not acknowledge the heat.

* * *

Tyegon had long ago learned the rich and cultured art of acting at least with contentment when he was bored out of his mind, an lesson his grandfather had pushed on him when he had once yawned in the middle of a meeting. Despite this, he was tired, bored and growing exceedingly tired of listening to the riotous rabble of the Winterfell men as he was watched his father openly drink himself into an early grave as he played with any busty wench or servant who strayed into his line of vision.

His mother was making nice with the Lady Catelyn and showing the same tell tale signs of fighting away boredom as he was. He didn't doubt the two women were talking about either the King's behavior or the prospect of marriage between his brother and Sansa Stark. The worst of it was, the feast was in their honor, and he couldn't excuse himself to rest. He had ridden hard for nearly a week to meet up with his family, and then rode nearly another full month to reach Winterfell, and his legs, back and neck were killing him.

He swore upon all the gods, that if his father and mother decided to head back home to King's Landing tomorrow, he would be forever branded as Kinslayer. His eyes flittered about the small dining hall where the feast was held until they landed on someone he felt obligated to speak to. Rising from his seat, he maneuvered through the crowd before he stood behind Robb Stark, Lord Eddard's oldest son and heir, and Theon Greyjoy. "Forgive my interruption gentlemen, but I would have a word Theon Greyjoy."

The Greyjoy heir gave Robb a smirk. "Duty calls, Robb. I will speak to you tonight after my return," the roguish teen said as he climbed to his feet. Seeing him in the proper light, Tyegon would say that Theon was a handsome man, with a freshly shaven face and hair the color of his own, even if it did lay more at ease about his head. His eyes were the same stormy blue as most of his relatives, and the prince hoped his disposition didn't match the legendary fury of his family.

The two stepped outside the hall, where conversations were not as likely to be overheard, by passing the prince's dwarven uncle as he entered. In the distance, Jon Snow, the bastard of Winterfell was slashing a training dummy with all his might, hopefully keeping himself entertained enough to keep his ears from straying. After walking a ways away from the door to the feasting hall, Tyegon turned to the man who would, supposedly be his future brother in law.

"First, I am not here to apologize," the prince started with a hard look at the older male, roughly four namedays his elder. "What I did at Lannisport was for the good of my people," he said with conviction as he stared down the no longer smirking Theon. "That isn't why I sought you out however. It has come to my attention that I have been set to marry your sister, Asha, and I wanted your thoughts on my intended."

Theon stared at the prince for a long moment, his fingers flexing as if longing to reach for a weapon that he did not have, before he closed his eyes and forced himself to regain his composer. "Aye, my father started the rebellion and my fool brothers charged in with him," the heir of the Iron Islands said in a voice that showed the line's rehearsal. "As for Asha, do I feel sorry for you," he said as his smirk returned. "I remember her fairly well from before my father's defeat and I was made a ward of the north. A short round little thing with gapped teeth and the fury of the sea," he said with a chuckle.

The prince frowned at the thought and wondered if his family in King's Landing were slighting him. Joffrey was to be wed to Sansa, a girl of extraordinary beauty, with hair the color of autumn leaves and bright blue eyes. Why would his mother and father draft him a marriage with a squat little troll if the boy in front of him was to be believed. His green eyes went back to Theon's face for a hard moment before he sighed. "Fine, I just wished to know of the woman I was meant to wed. You told Robb Stark you would be leaving and I do not wish to delay you in your movements."

The Greyjoy's lip twitched as if to snarl at the obvious dismissal, but wisely kept his face under control. "By your leave then, My Prince," Theon said with more than some disdain as he turned and began to make his way toward the gates.

Without anyone to speak to, Tyegon began to make his way toward his room. He had accomplished two goals in one and felt rather relieved for them. He had learned more about his future wife, and though he would like to say that appearance mattered little to him, the seeming slight of his parents tore at him. He had also escaped the feast, and could now finally spend the night on a soft mattress and enjoy the ease of his aching muscles and joints.

His bed wasn't soft though, he could barely tell the difference between the mattress an the ground outside the castle. His weariness though had his eyes closed and his breathing relaxed within minutes of laying down.


	4. Chapter 4

**Jasmine's Notes!** Here it is, chapter 4, and we're starting to get into the meat of things. This is not a heavy Harry/Tyegon chapter, I'll just say that up front, but I had fun looking into the other characters and seeing where they stood. Some interesting things appear in this chapter, but I'm trying to draw things out, rather than just rush through with a chapter equaling an episode of the show. Also, some characters are described as they are in the books and not as the actors portraying them.

* * *

Wood met wood amongst the heavy dirt of Winterfell's training yard as Jaime tested his nephew's prowess with a blade. The boy was a mystery to him, and he loved a good mystery, like how his sister came to have a child by her husband that she did not kill in the womb, but rather seemed to care for as greatly as Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen. His green eyes twinkled with amusement as he stepped around a slash of Tyegon's practice blade, and smacked his wrists with is own wooden sword, causing the boy to drop his weapon into the muck.

"You are performance is not as bad as I had at first feared," the blonde man said as he relaxed and waited for the boy to rub the soreness from his wrists before lifting his weapon anew. "Whoever my father found to teach you did an admiral job, though now all you need is practice and experience with a real swordsman," he explained as he readied his blade again and moving toward the black haired youth, his swings slow and calculated to see how the boy reacted.

"Thank you, uncle, I will take that in consideration," Tyegon answered as he blocked another strike from the man, answering with one of his own. The two swung again, letting their blades crash against each other as they continued to danced the song of combat. What neither knight nor prince saw was the queen, standing high above them in one of the small windows of the castle, her green eyes following their movements with a purposeful gaze.

Through haunted green eyes, she could remember bringing her son into the world twice and wondered to just which he truly belonged. How much of Harry Potter still breathed inside Tyegon Baratheon, and how would he have turned out if he had been raised in the world of cars and owls instead of horses and ravens. She knew he still had magic, her father had written to her often for explanations to the things the boy could do while she didn't possess an ounce of Lily Potter's power.

She had thought of sending him to the Citadel and learning the arts of magic from the Maesters, but had quickly put that thought to rest. The Maesters were like men who were just learning the arts of magics and their power were still connected to the world while Tyegon's bloomed within his body, shattering the preconceived notion that the art was all but truly lost to the world. She had also thought of the sending him beyond the Narrow Sea, but despised the thought of being so far from her son once again.

Cersei had tried many times to keep speak to her husband about breaking the oath for the prince to marry the Greyjoy girl but each time she had been rebutted, the last attempt leaving her with a bruised eye for several weeks. The difficult part had been talking Jaime from killing another king, and possibly separating them again not to mention separating Jaime's head from his body. The marriage was not to be stopped in Robert's insane attempt to keep the Ironborn from rebelling again. It was only Balon Greyjoy's defeat that had the proud man agreeing in the first place.

She winced slightly as Jaime knocked the blade from the youth's hand again and once more began to give casual advice as an uncle ought to do. It was a sigh of relief that he didn't feel anger or betrayal at the birth of her dark haired child, but then again, Jaime rarely acted on anger and in haste, unless it was hers. No, not even Lily's memories were enough to get her to end her affair. She had attempted to stop it twice before, once when her father tried to give her to Rhaegar and again when she had married Robert. Both times had wrought havoc on her life.

Her thoughts shifted back to her drunken oaf of a husband and she sighed bitterly. Robert, it seemed, detested her and her children for the fact she was not Lyanna Stark and the children did not have Stark blood in their veins. He detested Joffrey and rarely spoke to the boy while they were home, and hadn't bothered with Tyegon after his return from Casterly Rock, thinking he too had to much lion in his veins.

Lily seemed to think it was poetic though, as Gryffindor, her House while attending school had the same banner and color as the Lannisters. The boy was a lion, no matter is name or world, he was a lion and he had been raised as such. Then again, his father is, was and always would be a stag, even if James could literally become the beast. It was often she wondered if Harry would take up the ability to change into a beast as well and what he would become.

"Your Grace," the Riverrun accent of Catelyn Stark said from the doorway, bringing the queen's eyes toward her. With out preamble, the red headed woman walked into the guest chamber and moved to look down over the training field herself. "It must have been hard," she said after a full minute of observation. "Sending away your child to be raised by your father and then the news of his involvement in Lannisport. However did you get through it?"

"I mostly fed upon my own nails for the days of waiting between ravens," the queen admitted as she eyed the woman warily. There was something different about her today then from the previous night. The woman's back was stiff and her fingers played with the end of her sleeves as if she was worried about something. "When the news of his safety reached me, I cried in joy. I don't think I let any of my other children out of my sight the entire time."

"I don't think I could stand the thought of my own children rushing into battle," Catelyn said with a frown. Her blue eyes seemed to dim at the thought itself before she shook herself. "My apologies, Your Grace, I didn't come to speak of such dark thoughts," she continued. "I came to inform you that lunch would be ready soon, by the time we've reached the dining hall it should be finished."

"That's good," the queen said with a smile. "I was beginning to grow hungry and just now, something warm would really hit the spot," she said with a casual glance back toward the training field and the blonde hair of her brother.

* * *

Leather boots moved quickly over the tarred boards of the ship as it speared its way through the waves surrounding the Iron Islands. Long toned legs, built from years at sea, moved quickly as the ship began to make its final preparations for docking. Short black hair was tied out of her face by a thick strip of red cloth, as the captain's jacket was opened at the top, showing off a fair amount of the iron chestplate beneath. Plates of iron were strapped to the captains thighs to crush the cock of any man who thought her easy prey.

A sword swung in its scabbard on her left hip while a string of smaller knives were belted to her right. Her hard grey eyes matched the sea on which the Black Wind sailed as the rain pounded down upon her and her crew. "Move," she demanded one of her sailors as she neared the helm and took it up herself. "I swear on the Drowned God, if you touch this helm again I will personally hold you beneath the waves myself."

"There is no need for such brash actions," Grimtongue said as he made his way up the stairs to the captain's deck. "After all, what would the Black Lion say if he could see his sweet betrothed threatening her men?"

"I neither know nor do I care," she answered through her teeth. "But the next time you call me his betrothed, I'll be sure to remove your cock and balls and let you go in my place," she said with a murderous glint in her eyes. How she hate the thought of being married off to some Baratheon prick and possibly giving up the ship she loved more than any child that could slither from her loins.

She was the daughter of the Kraken and had fought the engagement tooth and nail, even going so far as to giving her maidenhood to the first sailor to try and sweet talk her. She hated the thought of being tied down, she was the sea and liked to think of herself as just as free uncatchable. "The boy's some brash arrogant cub of the mainland. I'd crush him between my thighs before I let him get his cock wet in me."

"And why should you," her crewman replied. "It's not as if it would embarrass your father, and- Alright, alright, just put the sword down," Grimtongue pleaded between his blackened teeth as he felt the cold bite of steel on his throat. His dark eyes tracked the weapon up Asha's arm, saw her snarling face. "Right, right, I'll just stop talking now."

Daenerys sat silently as she watched the festivities of her wedding go on around her. The dark skinned women of the Dothraki moved and danced with sharp snaps of their bodies, their breasts flying free of they teased the men. One of her new husbands fellow warriors had seemingly had enough, as he forced one of them to her knees and began to plunge his cock into her from behind.

Beside her sat the largest man she had ever seen, Khal Drogo, a man who had never been defeated in battle as his long hair indicated. The man was fierce and cold and rarely spoke even in his own tongue, though she didn't believe he spoke her own. He simply watched as a fight broke out amongst his men for the woman being brutally fucked and enjoyed the show. The wedding had been going on all day, starting at dawn and supposedly wouldn't end until night fall.

She had been receiving gifts all day, from Dothraki and men of the Free Cities alike. Another such man was approaching, only he wore armor more suited to Westeros than the Free Cities, and he was bringing a small stack of books. "A small gift for the new Khaleesi, songs and histories from the Seven Kingdoms," he said innocently as he knelt. Daenerys took the opportunity to look him over, with his heavy black beard and balding head, but he seemed rather fit and able.

"Thank you," she said, her voice barely reaching over the sounds of the weddings drums, cheering and fighting going on below. "Are you from my country?"

"Ser Jorah Mormont, of Bear Island," he answered. "I served your father for many years. The Gods be good I hope to always serve the rightful king," he continued with a look toward her brother, who was seated nearby. With a quiet bow he moved away from her and the Khalasar, and proceeded down the steps.

As he did, Illyrio stood, waving his hands towards his own servants to bring his gift forward. Two men moved swiftly, climbing the stairs that led to the newly married couple and presented a heavy chest at her feet. With fast hands they opened it, revealing three oval stones to the purple eyed Khaleesi. "Dragon eggs, Daenerys, from the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai. The ages have turned them to stone, but they will always be beautiful."

"Thank you, Magister," she said in honest awe as she bent and lifted one of the eggs in her small hands, feeling the roughness of its stone shell. She didn't get to admire long though, as her new husband stood to his feet, bringing the chatter, jeering, cheers and drums to a halt. The sun was setting and she knew it meant it was time for the bedding. Daenerys had feared this particular moment she had learned of her arranged marriage to the behemoth of a man she thought as little more than a savage.

Setting the egg back into its chest, she stood slowly as Drogo began to make his way down the steps ahead of her. She hesitated, trying to control her breathing before she followed at a much slower pace. She had known this day was coming and was glad she had outlasted the touches of her brother to be with her husband, she only wished it could have been with someone she loved.

As the Khalasar walked through them, the Dothraki made a wide path, only moving in to fill the gap as she walked slowly behind him. When she finally caught sight of him again, she was taken back by the horse whose reigns he held, as pure white as the clouds during a bright day. She realized right away that this was his way of trying to be sweet, the Dothraki loved and worshipped horses, and Drogo had been thoughtful enough to find one with a coloring so near her own.

"She's beautiful," the new Khaleesi breathed out as she gently ran her hand along the horse's mane. Turning, her eyes found Ser Jorah, a man she had seen speak her husband's language earlier that day. "How do you say 'thank you' in Dothraki?"

"Khaleesi, there is no word for 'thank you' in Dothraki," the knight said with a sad look in his eye for the poor girl.

Their exchange was cut short as Drogo lifted her easily onto the filly, his powerful arms moving her through the air with no trouble what so ever. Her terror grew inside her chest as she watched him take her new filly's reigns and climb upon his own steed. He didn't wait for her to say goodbye before he thumped his heels against it's side and began to make his way deeper into the mountains.

They did not stop until they reached a cliff over looking the sea to watch the sun set beyond the horizon. Drogo dismounted quickly and offered his hands to help her to the ground, a move she found astonishing after the display she had seen for their wedding. With her hand in his, he moved away from the creatures his people held in such high regard and moved her to face the setting sun.

He stood behind her, his thick strong hands moving through her hair as tears began to fall from her eyes in fright, realizing she was bout to be raped. Drogo must have felt her tense as his hands stopped playing with her hair and he moved to stand in front her, her eyes only level with his chest. His hand moved toward her face and her breath caught in her throat, before he wiped away her tear. "No."

No? No what? He didn't want her to cry for the bedding ceremony? Did he want to hear her cry out the word as he forced himself on her? "No."

"Is, is that the only word you know," she asked tentatively as her purple eyes moved up his powerful chest to his bearded face, and saw his eyes watching her.

"No."

It came to her, as she looked into her husband's eyes what he was trying to get across. Even as his hands moved to undo the straps on her dress she held her tongue. He would stop if she asked him too, would put off his desires until she was ready. It was more than she expected, far more than she had learned to anticipate from her own flesh and blood.

She said nothing as he moved to let her dress fall to the ground, her hands reaching for her breasts to keep her modesty, but they were met by his own, gently pushing them away. He moved her to the ground, on her hands and knees, before he began to unbuckle his own limited armor, and she understood. The Dothraki made love like their horses bred, a life time of companionship between man and beast had taught them something she had never even thought about in her wildest dreams.

Soon enough her tears fell anew, not from fear, and certainly not from love, but from pain as her maidenhood was taken. Despite it all though, a new feeling seemed creep inside of her chest, replacing the terror and doubt about her new marriage. As Drogo's hands found her breast, and both of their breathing became labored, she felt safe, safer than she ever had under her brother's care.

* * *

Robert Baratheon, first of his name, King of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realms gave a great sigh as he climbed the steps to mount his steed. After so many years he was finally going to spend some time with his best friend in the world, his brother in all but blood. This boar hunt would give them plenty of time to speak and for him to hopefully get Ned to agree to take the position of Hand of the King.

This would also mark his first hunt with his second son, the only one of his children to come away with his own coloring and escape his mother's Lannister womb as a stag. It was only to bad the boy had been taking to the lion's den and raised as one of their own. Of course, it had left him time to spend with his heir, if only Joffrey hadn't been such a disappointment. He would have long ago abdicated his throne if he hadn't worried about what his wife and child would do with it.

By the seven he had gotten himself into a mess all those years ago. He had wanted the woman he loved returned, only for her to die seconds after being found. He hadn't wanted the throne for his own, not really. He had wanted to ride the countryside with Ned at his side, drinking, whoring and hunting, to have no real responsibilities, but that was where he had ended up.

He had often questioned if he had done the right thing, than he thought of her, Lyanna, and Ned's father and brother, and knew that the Mad King had to be put down and Rhaegar's lust put to an end. He had started the Rebellion for love, love of the woman he could never have, and love of a brother who had been so terribly wronged. Now he paid the price, with a swollen gut, a rotting cock and a family of predators itching to take the Iron Throne for their own.

His dark eyes looked to his son's who rode quietly nearby. While Tyegon looked excited for the chance to hunt some boar, Joffrey looked greener and greener the further they got from the comforts of Winterfell. He would never understand how a child born from his loins would end up such a woman for comfort.

"A dragon for your thoughts," Ned's voice chimed in from beside him and he twisted in saddle to better the conversation.

"Ha," he said, burying his pain and worries as he smiled at his friend, feeling once again the rush of youth as he rode beside his friend. "I was merely remembering all those plans of my youth," he said with a grin. "I've done most of them, I can barely remember the last time I wasn't drunk and I dare say, I've slept with a different woman for every night of my reign, sometimes more than one," he said with a hearty belly laugh.

"So I've heard," Ned said with a grin as he thought to all the songs and tales he had heard from his men when he had a chance to join them on patrol of his lands. "I dare say, many of your exploits have become the thing of legend, sung by men who revere them as the testament of what makes a real man."

"Well now, I'll have to hear some of those," the king said with a grin. "They might even replace A Cask of Ale as my favorite," he joked.

"My King," one of the men who was riding in front them suddenly called back. Robert eyed the man, as if trying to remember if he was one of his own men or one of Ned's before he simply let it go. "We've come upon some fresh tracks, a sounder by the looks of them. Shall we make camp for the night?"

"Yes, yes, we need to get moving already before they get to great a start on us. Ned you're with me," Robert said as he slid from his saddle and his feet impacted the hard ground, sending shudders through out his boy. "Joffrey, Tyegon, come along," he called out as he took his spear from one of the banner men. "Come one boys, we got us some pigs to slay!"


End file.
